


Sweeter Than Halloween Candy

by bluebeholder



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fortune Telling, Halloween, M/M, Team as Family, minor irish!graves, spooky fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 06:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12575992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: It's October 31, and Queenie is throwing a Halloween party, where everyone will tell fortunes and play games to determine their futures. Credence is excited to attend...that is, until the unexpected figure of Percival Graves makes his appearance. And then the night turns truly portentous: can Credence determine whether or not Graves' apparent feelings are real? Can he figure out if they're meant to be together?The answer will probably not surprise you. :)





	Sweeter Than Halloween Candy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morwrach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morwrach/gifts).



> HAPPY! HALLOWEEN! 
> 
> SO MUCH FIC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> This is my Treat prompt for the Gradence Trick or Treat Prompt Fest. From morwrach's prompt: “Credence has a long-term crush on Graves which he believes is unrequited (spoiler, it’s not!). On Hallowe'en night, Credence and Queenie (and others if you like!) play lots of traditional divination games (if you google there are lots of historical games such as peeling apples and divining your true love from the shape of the peel - or just poke me and I’ll send some links!). Every single game they play gives one result - Graves is Credence’s true love / future husband. Graves himself confirms that the games aren’t wrong!”
> 
> This is TOOTH-ROTTINGLY SWEET, with happy endings all around, just as the holiday needs. I hope you all enjoy! <3<3<3

The day is October Thirty-First, and there’s to be a party at the Goldsteins’ apartment tonight. It will be a lovely night. Queenie’s planned that they’ll all try to tell their future through fortune-telling games and tricks. She and Credence had carved a jack o’ lantern today which is sitting now on the step, a candle dancing merrily inside, and went out together to find decorations. The whole apartment is full of fluttering paper bats—which Credence had enchanted himself and is very proud of—and draped spider’s webs, and candles that flicker and dance and cast bizarre and impossible shadows on the walls.

Credence has been excited since Queenie told him. He’d boldly set aside his misgivings about fortune-telling as a trick of the devil. Not an easy thing—but there are many things, these days, which Credence has managed to set aside.

But now the night is here.

“Queenie, I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Credence says nervously as he and Queenie stand in the kitchen together.

“Aw, sugar, you don’t have to worry,” Queenie says, holding his hand in both of hers. “It’s no more witchcraft than anything else you do anymore.”

Credence winces. “But fortune-telling is…different.”

“It’s all in fun,” Queenie says firmly.

“But…” Credence’s voice fails him. “All right.” She beams at him and pulls Credence along out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Newt’s perched in a corner of the sofa, a bowl of Halloween candy on his lap, with Jacob occupying the middle of the couch. Tina’s sitting in a chair by the fire, and Credence takes up his usual residence on the floor beside the couch, tucked between its arm and the wall. It’s comfy and cozy, and Credence remembers last winter when they’d been meeting here in covert secrecy, Jacob and Credence nearly fugitives, before it had all been sorted out.

“Nice of you two to join us,” Jacob remarks as Queenie sits down beside him. “Is it time to tell fortunes?”

“We’ll wait just a bit,” Queenie says. She reaches over Newt, takes the bowl, and holds it down so Credence can take a handful. Black licorice gumdrops and orange jellybeans—Credence’s favorite is, by far, the orange jellybeans. “One more guest!”

“One more guest…?” Newt asks, and Queenie gives him a meaningful look. “Oh! Yes. Yes, the other guest!”

Credence looks between them. He chews and swallows the candy and says, still feeling a bit sticky, “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” Tina says. She leans forward, elbows on knees and chin on hands, smirking at him. “I was just going to ask you—how’s your thing with Director Graves?”

“Tina!” Credence covers his face with his hands. “I don’t have a thing with the Director!”

“Credence has a crush,” Tina sing-songs.

“Aw, leave the kid alone,” Jacob says. “It’s not his fault, if I swung a different way I think I’d be all over the Director too.”

Newt reaches down and pats Credence on the head. “Was your avoidance plan successful?”

“Avoidance plan?” Tina asks.

Credence nods. “I locked the door every time he showed up,” he says baldly.

“You can’t do that forever,” Queenie points out. “Got to face him sometime.”

“No, I do not.”

Since everything’s been sorted out, Credence is now employed at MACUSA in the Misuse of No-Maj Artifacts office. Tina was reinstated as an Auror, Queenie got a proper upgrade to “secretary” instead of “coffee girl”, and Newt has been officially poached from the Ministry of Magic to serve as the head of the newly-created Conservation Division of the Creature Department of MACUSA. And Jacob, of course, has his bakery.

It’s been an absolute trial for Credence to deal with Director Graves. Once he’d reconciled with the fact that this man was absolutely not the same as the man Credence had thought, he’d discovered to his horror that he still thought that Director Graves was far too kind and handsome. And the Director has been taking a personal interest in Credence’s affairs: calling him in for short informal interviews, stopping by the Misuse of No-Maj Artifacts Office…it’s been a nightmare, especially when Credence is sure that any hint of his feelings would cause the man to flee like the wind.

And then, two weeks ago, he’d had it almost confirmed. Credence had gotten into the habit of dropping by the Auror Office at lunch hour to chat with Tina (and usually Newt, who by some sort of coincidence found himself at Tina’s desk at the same). He usually at least smiled and waved at Director Graves, but all at once the Director started making himself scarce every day when Credence was there. It was an upset to a routine. Credence had nearly died of shame, realizing that the event that precipitated it was a conversation in the Director’s office where Credence had inserted his foot in his mouth and said that he considered that they might actually be friends.

No, there is no way that this crush will ever go forward.

There’s a knock on the door, and Queenie bounces to her feet. “Just in time!” she says, and hurries out into the hall.

“Oh, here we go,” Tina says, glancing at Newt and Jacob with a smile.

Credence hears the door open and Queenie indistinctly welcoming someone in. There’s a reply, a low male voice, and then two sets of footsteps and—

“Evening, Director,” Tina says, standing up and offering her hand.

“We’re not at work,” says the man who Credence has been trying to avoid for two and a half weeks as he shakes Tina’s hand. “Call me Percival, would you?”

Jacob, with his usual gregariousness, welcomes the newcomer roundly into the circle. Newt greets the man with a delighted smile, while Credence does his best to look inconspicuous in the corner. He hasn’t seen the man outside of MACUSA in—well, ever, really, and he’s not sure what to do when “Director Graves” has become “Percival”.

“I couldn’t just let Percival spend Halloween alone,” Queenie says with a bright smile. “And I know he’ll fit in just fine with us.”

Percival looks mildly uncomfortable, but also pleasantly surprised. His hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are stiff, but he’s smiling tentatively. “Queenie, I know this was a pity invitation.”

“It was not,” she says crossly, looking up at him. “You need friends, if you don’t mind my saying so, and there’s no better friends in the world than us.”

“She’s right about that!” Jacob says. There’s general agreement, and Credence manages a fervent nod when Percival looks at him.

“Good to see you all out of the office,” Percival says, taking the chair that Tina offers, sitting down on the floor. “Though it’s a little strange. Credence, I didn’t know that you’d be here.”

“He practically lives here,” Tina says with a grin.

Percival smiles at Credence and Credence, helpless, smiles right back. “They’re much too nice to me,” Credence says.

“Aw, sugar, you’re like the brother we never had,” Queenie says, reaching down to ruffle Credence’s hair.

Jacob turns to Percival. “You brought something to tell fortunes with, right?”

At that, Queenie claps her hands. “Well! Let’s begin, shall we?”

“Fantastic,” Tina says. “Where do we start? Who wants to go first?”

“I think mine will take longest,” Percival says. “Queenie asked for fortune-telling games and I thought—why not work on dinner, too?”

Queenie breaks into a smile. “Come on into the kitchen, then, and explain while you work!”

All six of them crowd into the kitchen. Percival explains, as he Summons ingredients, that this is a tradition in his family. “On Halloween, you bake charms into a loaf of barmbrack,” he says. “We’ve done it since before we came here from Ireland, though I haven’t baked in…nearly a decade, now. Whatever charm you get tells your future.”

“What charms are there?” Tina asks as Percival drops dried fruit into a bowl of strong black tea and leaves it to soak, murmuring a charm to accelerate the process.

“A key for travel, a coin for wealth, a ring for marriage, and a thimble for spinsterhood,” Percival says. “It’s all in fun, of course. My great-uncle got the thimble when he was fifteen, married my great-aunt at twenty, and they celebrated their seventy-fifth anniversary the year he died.”

Newt shakes his head. “Better hope I don’t get the key, then,” he says. “I’d never travel again!”

Percival goes on working and they settle into an easy chatter. Credence doesn’t talk much. No one needles him about it. It’s well-known that he’s shy around strangers. Also, the object of his permanent affections is standing in the kitchen performing some very impressive kitchen magic. He can be justified in mild terror.

“You know, I think you’d better sift your flour,” Jacob says as Percival starts putting together the dry ingredients. He gets up and goes to the counter, looking over Percival’s shoulder as he works. “Don’t want any lumps, not in a fine bread like this.”

“Jacob,” Percival says in a measured voice, “I know how to bake this. I did this every Halloween for thirty-three years. No advice.”

Jacob heaves a sigh. “I know, but you’ve got to sift your flour. It’s basic baking.”

“I’m warning you,” Percival says.

“And I’m warning you, ain’t no chance you’ll get a good dough if you don’t sift!”

Percival looks at Jacob with narrowed eyes. “You’re testing my patience.”

“You’re testing mine, ignoring professional advice!"

Then, as if he has no dignity at all, the Director of Magical Security calmly dumps an entire cup of flour over Jacob’s head.

Jacob splutters and Tina bursts into hysterical laughter. Credence isn’t sure what his reaction to these antics should be, but the fact that Newt’s grinning and Queenie is collapsed on a chair with giggles says this is as funny as he thinks it is.

Percival raises his brows, positively smirking. “Sift that, why don’t you.”

Then Jacob laughs and claps Percival on the shoulder, brushing flour out of his eyes. “You know what you’re doing! I’ll leave you to it.”

The rest of the bread mixing is quick. Percival puts it all in the bowl and mixes in the four charms—“so even I don’t know where they are”—and then sprinkles flour on the counter and drops the dough down. He rolls up his sleeves meticulously and begins kneading it. The muscles in his arms flex, the sleeves on his upper arms straining as he works the dough. Credence is _transfixed_.

“You could do that by magic, you know,” Queenie says.

“I could, but it isn’t half the fun,” Percival says, smiling at her.

This is too much. He’s smiling and kneading dough and being more attractive than any human has a right to be. Credence thinks he’s going to get a nosebleed. And just when he thinks Percival’s done, he starts kneading the fruit into the dough as well. The dough then has to sit and rest, so Queenie moves that they all go and start with another game.

“Newt first,” Jacob and Tina chorus when they’re in the living room again. The seating arrangements are mostly the same, but Queenie’s sitting on the floor by the fire now, with Percival occupying her spot on the couch.

He’s sitting right next to Credence.

Credence thinks he might pass out.

Queenie turns to Newt. “Well? Tell us all about it!”

Newt makes a face. “You’re conspiring against me,” he says to Jacob and Tina. “I don’t know much about Divination. I failed it at Hogwarts.”

“Has anyone anywhere ever passed Divination?” Tina asks with a sigh.

Percival shrugs. “I can safely say that even Seraphina Picquery failed at Ilvermorny.”

“It’s not even real and doesn’t work, how do you _fail_ it,” Credence mutters. He thinks he’s gone unheard, and then he hears Percival cough and looks up to see him hiding a smile. Credence’s heart does a small flop in his chest.

No one else is paying attention. “You’ve still got to play a game,” Jacob says, elbowing Newt lightly. “I’ve got mine all lined up—even found the place we’ll go—so get on with it!”

Newt nods decisively. “Right. I decided that we should do palmistry, since that’s the only Divination magic I’m good at.”

“How does that work?” Credence asks, looking down at his hands.

“I’ll demonstrate on Jacob,” Newt says. “Here—right hand, please.”

Jacob holds out his hand. “Don’t go telling me I’ll win the lottery,” he says with a grin. “I wouldn’t believe you if you tried!”

Without responding, Newt traces lines on Jacob’s hand, squinting at them and saying things under his breath. Credence watches intently: this is new, interesting magic. Finally, Newt begins his analysis. “Your heart line starts under your index finger and is long and straight, never touching your life line. You are satisfied with your love life, but are practical in matters of the heart. Your head line is curved, but long and deep; you’re very creative, a clear thinker of great thoughts. And this line is also separate from your life line: you are a great adventurer and forever seek new experiences.”

“Sounds like him,” Tina interjects.

Percival smiles. “You sound like the kind of man I’d trust,” he says. “A good man.”

“He is,” Queenie says, smiling at Jacob with soft eyes.

Newt clears his throat. “Pardon me,” he says, “I’m not done. Jacob, your life line is deep and swoops in an arc. You’re vital, strong, and enthusiastic. But there’s a large break in the line, a major change…I think that’d be crashing into me at the bank, to be honest.”

“A big change. Got that right!” Jacob says with a grin.

Credence thinks of that never-to-be-forgotten day. “It was a big change for all of us,” he says, not realizing until the words are out of his mouth how wistful he sounds.

“All of your mounts—see, these little pads at the base of your fingers—are well-shaped and average in height, meaning you’re quite moderate and balanced,” Newt says, ignoring them all. “Your fingers are short, meaning impatience and creativity and—well, virility, let’s move on from _that_ —and your fingernails are large and rectangular, reinforcing your practicality.”

“All that’s great,” Jacob says, “but what about the future?”

Newt looks up at him with a small smile. “Well, you don’t have a fate line,” he says, “which means that your destiny is yours to dictate. But there is a second break in your life line after the first, which points to another large change. Is there anything you’d like to tell us…?”

Jacob hesitates, turning a bit red. “Well,” he says at last, “I was going to wait a while, but hell with it. I proposed to Queenie last night.”

“You what?” Tina shrieks, and throws her arms around her sister. “Congratulations!”

Newt squeezes Jacob’s hand tightly, smiling brightly. “Many happy returns,” he says.

Credence scrambles up onto his knees and, quite forwardly, kisses Queenie on the cheek. “You deserve all the happiness you’ll have,” he says.

“Congratulations, both of you,” Percival says, looking slightly bewildered. Clearly, he didn’t expect that there would be a marriage announcement in the offing.

“I hope there’s no more revelations lurking in anyone’s hands!” Queenie says with a brilliant laugh. “I don’t think our nerves could take it!”

There really aren’t. They pass it around the circle: Jacob reads Tina’s palm (she’s a quick thinker, but her heart line is incredibly deep), Tina reads Queenie’s (her lines are nearly identical to Jacob’s, meaning they’ll have a long happy life together), Queenie reads Percival’s (broken in many places to signal he’s had a hard life, but indicating love in his future), and then Percival turns to Credence.  

“Your turn,” he says.

“Right,” Credence says. He offers his hand, and tries not to faint like a woman who tight-laced her corset as Percival cups his hand with one of his own and begins tracing the lines on his palm.

“You have the longest head line I’ve ever seen,” Percival says, the tip of his finger tracing the line that cuts all the way across Credence’s palm. “A clear, analytical thinker—can get stopped up by too much analysis, though. Life line…long, but very broken. Sorry for that.”

Credence swallows hard. “It’s not your fault,” he says. Usually that’s an automatic response, but he finds that he means this one.

Percival looks at him and half smiles. “I’ll consider myself forgiven,” he says.

Looking into the man’s eyes was a mistake.

Credence doesn’t want to look away.

Newt coughs pointedly and Percival looks back down at Credence’s hand. “Your mounts all look pretty fine, though your mount of Jupiter is flat…you need to get some self-confidence.”

“I’m trying,” Credence says.

A thumb strokes the side of Credence’s hand and Credence shivers. “I see,” Percival says. “Now. Your heart line is very straight—you’re stable, approachable, and mild, maybe a little passive in your love life. It ends right between the mounds of Jupiter and Saturn, which means you’re about due to meet your true love.”

“That makes sense,” Credence says in a whisper.

Percival straightens and looks at Credence again, and Credence can see the impending question in his eyes— _do you have a true love?_ —and Credence is terrified of what he’ll say in reply. But he didn’t need to worry. “You’re in a good spot,” Percival says, and lets go of his hand. “Newt, your turn.”

Credence does his best to read Newt’s hand, a difficult thing when Credence is feeling like the entire world’s gone and flipped on its head. To the surprise of absolutely no one Newt will be traveling again soon; the surprise comes in the fact that he quite clearly will be coming home again. He looks sideways at Tina, when Credence says that; Tina blushes.

“Well, who wants to take the next try?” Queenie asks, when all the palms have been read.

“I think Credence should show us what he’s got,” Percival says with a smile.

Credence looks up at him. “Me?”

“There’s no one else I’d mean,” Percival says.

“Yeah, go on,” Jacob says encouragingly.

“Look,” Credence says, feeling a bit desperate and nervous, “I was never allowed to play games like this, so…I don’t have much except apple peels.”

“Apple peels?” Newt inquires, raising his eyebrows.

Jacob snaps his fingers. “I think I know this one! Initials, right?”

“I have never heard of using apple peels in Divination magic,” Percival says, raising an eyebrow.

Queenie shushes him. “Don’t make him more nervous!”

Credence shoots a grateful look her way as he gets to his feet and goes into the kitchen to retrieve six apples and a paring knife. Coming back, he hands one apple to each person, and the knife to Queenie. “You go first, because this was your idea,” he says with a small scowl. After the palm reading, who could blame him for nervousness?

“All right,” Queenie says, grinning at him like a cat who got the cream. “What do I do?”

“Peel the apple in one long curl,” Credence says. He sits down again in his spot on the floor beside the couch, looking across the floor at her. “Then toss it over your left shoulder. Whatever initial it forms on the floor is the first initial of your true love’s name.”

Tina raises her hand. “What if it breaks?”

“Then you don’t have a true love,” Credence says promptly. He tosses his apple from hand to hand. “Chastity and Modesty and I did this once, a long time ago. Modesty was the only one who could get hers to stay whole, but she tossed it over her right shoulder, so the results were a bit suspect.”

“Aw, Credence, you’ve got a true love out there somewhere,” Jacob says.

Credence shrugs, privately hoping that this damn peel breaks in a hundred pieces so no one will ask him about the fact that his voice cracks every time he gets within six feet of Percival. “Maybe,” he says. “Things might have changed, right?”

Queenie starts to peel her apple. She’s very dexterous, and when she’s finished she rises and tosses it over her left shoulder. Tina twists around, rising onto her knees so she can see where it landed behind the couch. “There is no way that’s anything but a J,” she reports. “My turn!”

Tina lands a loopy ‘N’, turns bright red, and stammers as Queenie teases her. If she and Newt don’t kiss before the night is out, Credence will eat his shoes without sauce. Jacob, of course, gets something that resembles a ‘Q’. Newt’s is initially indeterminate, but after a moment Percival claims that it’s a cursive ‘T’.

Then Credence takes his turn, and the peel doesn’t break. He holds his breath as he tosses it over his shoulder, not sure if he’s hoping for a specific letter or for a dismal knot. “What is it?” he asks, without turning around.

“Kid, I have no idea what that letter is,” Jacob admits.

Credence dares to peek over his shoulder. Newt’s scowling at the peel as if it personally offends him. “It’s like it was trying to say something and failed,” he says. “Like there were too many loops in the letter for one apple peel to make it clear.”

“Oh,” Credence says, heart pounding. “Well. That’s fine. I suppose that at least means I have a true love somewhere, right?”

“Somewhere, for sure,” Queenie says. She holds out the knife to Percival. “Your turn.”

He’s methodical, and Credence watches him with bated breath. Finally, he stands up and tosses the peel over his left shoulder. “Tell me,” Percival says, “I’m not looking on my own.”

“Um,” Tina says, staring with wide eyes.

At Credence’s current angle, all he can see is that the apple peel landed in one piece in a sort of coil. “What does it say?”

“It’s a ‘C’,” Jacob says, glancing at Credence speculatively.

Queenie looks up at Percival from where she perches on the couch. “Know anybody whose name starts with a ‘C’?” she asks, flicking a sly glance at Credence.

Percival turns and looks down at the peel, deliberately avoiding Credence’s gaze. “Only one, really,” he says.

“What’s the guess that Credence’s was the peel trying to be a ‘P’?” Jacob stage-whispers to Newt.

Credence thinks he’s going to actually faint.

There’s a brief break as Percival goes to punch down the dough so it can rise more. During the interval, while everyone else is chatting, Queenie brings out a bag of chestnuts and puts them in a bowl, which she sets before the fire. When Percival comes back in, Queenie explains her game.

“You toss two nuts into the fire,” she says, sitting down next to Jacob. “Name them for two people, and if they burn out side by side, that’s a good match. If they bounce away from each other, it won’t last; if they sputter and steam it’ll be a match of strife.”

Percival smiles, looking at Queenie and Jacob. He picks up two chestnuts. “We’d better do you two first, since I think we’d all like to be assured that this match will last.” And he tosses the nuts into the fire. They all crowd around, watching with bated breath, but the nuts don’t do anything exceptional, smoldering away side by side until they crumble to ash.

“Good,” Newt says. Credence squeezes Queenie’s hand. She’s smiling so brightly that she’s outshining the fire.  

They do several other couples—ridiculous ones, like Abernathy and the President, or a few of the more vitriolic Senators, the editor of the New York Ghost and Grindelwald (who are Percival’s mortal enemies), Newt’s older brother Theseus and the Minister of Magic—just to see what happens. Queenie almost gets hit in the face by one flying nut; Newt does take a hit to the forehead when one simply explodes. The room starts to smell like roasted chestnuts. It’s perfect, and Credence can almost forget his feelings as he shouts with laughter over Percival’s indignant diatribe about how the fact that the nuts named for himself and the President stay together indicates a “purely professional relationship, Tina!”

The whole group is in stitches by the time that Tina clears her throat. “I think—I’d like to do Newt and I,” she says in a rush, and tosses two nuts into the fire. The second they ignite, one nut flies off and Jacob makes a strangled noise of indignation—but then Credence watches with disbelieving eyes as the second nut launches off to follow the first. Then they rest in the corner of the fireplace, burning out slowly together.

“I think that’s a good omen,” Credence says, breaking the silence.

“That’s done, then,” Newt says, smiling at Tina. She looks satisfied, still beet-red in the cheeks, but that’s to be expected. Credence isn’t the only one bad at feelings.

“Well,” Jacob says slowly, “there’s two people here who we ain’t looked at just yet.”

“You don’t have to—” Credence starts to say, but he’s cut off by Percival.

“No, let them have their fun,” he says lightly. He’s looking at Credence again, the weight of his gaze heavy and meaningful. “It’s only a game, right?”

Credence swallows hard. “Right,” he says softly.

Jacob looks between the two of them and shakes his head. “Here goes nothing.” He tosses two nuts into the fire.

They land in the heart of the fire, and don’t move an inch, resting against each other as they light and blaze out. Credence stares at the little flame until the afterimage is burned into his eyes, and only then does he look around. Percival is also staring at the fire, but everyone else is looking at the two of them with anticipation.

Finally, Percival looks up at Credence. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but the kitchen timer begins to shriek at just that moment. Whatever he was going to say is cut off as he and Jacob scramble to their feet to go and put the bread in the oven.

Credence falls onto his back and covers his face with his hands. “I told you,” he says, muffled, “I _told you_ this was a bad idea.”

Queenie’s gentle hand strokes his hair. “The night ain’t over yet,” she says. “Wait and see.”

Newt nudges Credence’s shin with his toe. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” he says.

“It’s not even a damn surprise at this point,” Tina says.

Credence stares at her. “What do you mean?”

Tina rolls her eyes with great expression. “You’ll see,” she says sweetly.

The bread has to bake for another hour—“It will take itself out of the oven when it’s done,” Percival says—so Jacob decides it’s time for them all to go and do _his_ fortune-telling game. They all bundle up against the cold and pile into Jacob’s jalopy. It’s used and the engine clatters alarmingly, but a sight better than having to walk or Apparate.

In the car, Queenie hands out small masks, in the spirit of the night: just decorated domino masks, but something that gives real character to the night. Newt has something that looks like a ghoulish Picasso painting, Tina has half a clock face, Jacob gets a fox, Queenie’s is merely abstract, Credence has a sort of bird, and Percival a cat. They’re a motley crew indeed.

Behind the mask Credence feels suddenly bold enough to lean on Percival’s shoulder as they drive. He never complains, and even—when they start hitting bumps in the road—puts an arm around Credence’s shoulder to stop him from hitting his head against the side of the car. Credence’s heart beats faster, but he isn’t going to stop things now. It’s Halloween, the night for things to turn inside-out and upside-down. What harm will it do?

Jacob parks the car discreetly in an alleyway and leads them to a vegetable patch in someone’s tiny back garden. “I don’t know whose this is,” he says, “and I don’t much care. I’m with wizards who can fool around with people’s memory, right? So let’s go kaling.”

“What in the hell is _kaling_?” Percival asks.

Apparently, it’s a method of fortune-telling with kale leaves.

Jacob explains that they have to walk blindfolded, backwards, into a vegetable patch and pull a kale stalk. Then they’ll take the leaves back and use them to read futures. “And,” Jacob says, flourishing a blindfold, “since Newt made me go first with the palm readings, he has the honor of stumbling around after vegetables first!”

“This is the single most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done, and I have performed an Erumpet mating dance,” Newt announces, waving his arms in front of him.

Percival takes Newt by the shoulders and turns him the other way. “Walk backwards and don’t take off your blindfold!” he says, and gives Newt a gentle push in the chest.

“Kaling,” Queenie says, shaking her head. “I ain’t ever heard of this.”

Newt stumbles backward into the vegetable patch. Tina calls encouragement to him and Credence tries to give directions; it doesn’t work and Newt crashes through some zucchini before reaching the bushy kale plants. It takes him a moment to pull a leaf, but at last he does, and practically runs out of the vegetable patch.

“Your turn,” he says, slapping the blindfold into Tina’s hands.

Tina stumbles her way through the patch, and so do they all, one after another. Queenie trips over a pumpkin vine and puts a run in her stocking; Percival gets so turned around he ends up nearly pulling up a potato plant instead. By some miracle Credence and Jacob avoid playing the fool, and by another miracle no one notices the disaster occurring in the backyard.

Back in the apartment, they sit around the kitchen table, amid the lovely scent of the bread baking, each with their kale leaf. “Now I’m no expert,” Jacob says, “but if you can read this leaf, you’ll know exactly the kind of person you’ll marry.”

“So mine, strong and firm and fairly big, and…” Newt pauses to taste the leaf. “…hm, of sweet taste, that’d be someone of good kind character?”

“Just like Tina,” Credence says promptly.

Tina, who has a piece of kale in her mouth, chokes. Percival thumps her on the back, laughing, as she wheezes. “Warn me next time,” she says. “This is a little bit gritty, but tastes delicious.”

“Mine’s delicious,” Queenie says thoughtfully.

“All these ruffles on mine,” Jacob muses.

Credence happens to glance up and meet Percival’s eyes, and Percival looks quickly away. “Mine’s rather young,” he says.

“And mine’s old,” Credence murmurs, running his fingers over the ribbed leaf. He tastes it, and adds, “But…sweet.”

He looks up and sees Percival staring at him with a strange expression. The table is silent, as if everyone is waiting. There’s another one of those moments when Credence thinks that something will happen. Percival’s mouth is half-open, as if to speak—

—and then the oven door pops open and the loaf pan floats out, sailing to land on the counter. At that moment, Queenie bursts into motion, hopping up to fix the real dinner. Everyone gets out of her way as she puts on a show: a chicken roasts itself in midair, bread dressing and scalloped corn neatly mix themselves in serving bowls, gravy pours itself into the boat. Credence hurries out and fetches the jack o’ lantern, and they all say a fond farewell to it before Queenie, with a few deft spells, turns it into a perfect pumpkin pie.

“We’ll save it for after dinner,” she says with a beatific smile. “For now—Percival, I think you oughta cut up that cake.”

Percival cuts it into even slices and passes the serving plate around. There’s some left, of course, but after one bite Credence is sure that there won’t be leftovers at all. It’s delicious.

It’s so delicious, in fact, that he isn’t paying attention and nearly breaks a tooth biting down on a hard piece of metal. “Ow!”

“One of the charms?” Newt asks, turning and looking at him.

Credence pries the little metal object out of the slice of bread and dusts off the crumbs. He holds it up: a plain silver band. A ring.

“Marriage,” Queenie says, folding her hands and smiling.

“There you go,” Percival says with a slow smile. Credence looks at him for a long moment, and tries very hard not to think of whose ring it is that he’s holding.

Tina nearly breaks her tooth on the key—“so those chestnuts were right about travel!” Credence says—and Jacob avoids biting on the coin, which seems to predict success for the bakery. Even though there’s the thimble left in the cake, it’s not in this initial round. So they turn their attention to the delicious dinner, tucking in heartily.

Jacob tells them the outlandish story of the eccentric woman who brought a parrot into the bakery, to which Newt replies with the tale of a Fwooper that got loose in the Ministry of Magic last year. Tina and Queenie regale the table with stories from the MACUSA rumor mill, all silly and sweet. Credence tells them about this week’s latest ridiculous incident in the Misuse of No-Maj Artifacts office, where a toaster had somehow forced its investigators to switch bodies.

Percival is quiet next to Credence, and it’s strange to see him look so unsure of himself. Nervous, even; but that feeling is mutual. Credence catches his eye once and offers a small smile, which is returned in full. The fact that all of these games have told him that he’s got a true love, somewhere…well, it makes Credence slightly more hopeful about Percival. The smiles help, though.

They do finish off the bread, and there’s one oddity. Although they all saw Percival drop the thimble in, it isn’t there. They go so far as to search the kitchen for it, wondering if they’d deluded themselves, but it never does turn up. And Percival swears solemnly that he didn’t take the thimble out or hide it himself, which Queenie backs up as Gospel truth.

“Halloween magic, I think,” Percival says. For some reason, he looks Credence right in the face as he continues, “No one will go home a spinster tonight!”

“I’m happy about that,” Jacob says with a smile, looking at Queenie.

Tina and Newt look at each other, blush, and look away again. It’s absolutely adorable.

In short order, the jack o’ lantern pie is cut and eaten. Of course it’s perfect, but no one has room for any more than a small slice. Credence is happy to just sit and bask in it: a cheerful Halloween night, with friends, able to sit and look at Percival as much as he wants without feeling awkward about it. Even if Percival’s not really interested in him, Credence is happy with this.

Eventually, of course, people have to go. “No rest for the wicked,” Percival says apologetically. “I still have to go in tomorrow, there will be two dozen incidents of disorderly Halloween conduct on my desk already.”

“And I guess I should go. Bakeries open early,” Jacob says.

Newt nods. “There’s chores I need to attend to.”

“I guess we’ll walk you out, then,” Queenie says, rising to her feet.

There’s a round of goodbyes in the living room. No one says anything when, once Jacob’s got his hat and coat on, he and Queenie duck out together. When Queenie comes back in a moment later, she’s blushing and her lipstick is a bit smudged.

“I’m going to go start washing up,” she says, but pauses and hugs Percival. “Thanks for coming, Percy. Maybe you’ll come round to dinner again sometime.”

“I think I will,” he says. “Just let me know.”

“There’s always room at our table, any time,” Queenie says. And then she’s gone. A moment later, there’s the clatter of dishes.

“Walk me out?” Newt says to Tina, distinctly shy.

Tina squares her shoulders. “All right, then,” she says, and they go out together.

“The most unlikely couple in history,” Percival says, shaking his head as he turns to Credence.

“I don’t think so,” Credence says. He hasn’t consumed any alcohol tonight, so he isn’t quite sure why the next words fall out of his mouth. “You and I would be odder than that.”

Percival’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “You and I?”

Credence wonders if it’s too late to move to the Yukon. Or the bottom of the ocean. He sees spots and realizes he’s forgotten what air tastes like. “I’m sorry—I mean—”

“Breathe,” Percival commands, a hand landing on Credence’s shoulder. “You just surprised me.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Credence says.

“You didn’t,” Percival says. “I…”

He stops. Credence waits, watching him intently. And Percival’s looking back, thoughtful, maybe determined. The moment is fragile as a cobweb. Credence thinks wildly for half a second that maybe he should just lean in and kiss Percival right there, that maybe it would go all right. He’s about to do it, precipitated on the moment of confidence and panic—

—and the door slams.

Percival lets go of Credence and steps back like he’s been burned. Tina comes in and looks between them and a flash of inexplicable disappointment crosses her face. Credence feels like he’s been caught doing something illicit.

“I’ll say good night, then,” Percival says. He smiles at Credence again, and glances at Tina. “I’ll see you both on Monday. Thank Queenie again for me.”

And then he’s gone.

The door shuts and Credence sits down hard on the sofa. Tina drops down next to him and takes his hand. “It went badly?”

“I put my foot in my mouth again,” Credence says, planting his face in his hands. “I’m an idiot, Tina. Just a complete idiot.”

He hears Queenie come in, and she sits down on his other side, rubbing his back. “Aw, honey…you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Let’s face it,” Credence says into his palms, “he’s never going to look at me. I’m doomed.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Credence considers departing to live in the Wild West. Maybe Newt can send him off to England to work at the Ministry. Or he could just go home, lock the door, and lie in bed for the rest of eternity. That seems like a good idea.

“Well, Tina, you’re the only one who hasn’t done anything to tell fortunes,” Queenie says.

Credence looks up in surprise. “You are!”

“Ugh,” Tina says.

“Go on, tell,” Queenie says. 

“This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, but it’s kind of the edge of my creativity,” Tina says. “I didn’t think the boys would want to do this, so…”

“Am I not one of the boys?” Credence objects.

Tina puts an arm over his shoulder and hugs him sidewise. “Yeah, but like we said earlier: you’re _our_ little brother.” Credence ducks his head in embarrassment at that, but hugs Tina right back.

“And this one’s just for family?” Queenie asks with a smile.

Credence cocks his head, now curious. “What are we doing?”

“Throwing balls of yarn out the window,” Tina says promptly.

“What.”

Queenie hops to her feet and goes to the knitting basket, pulling out several balls of yarn. “Make sure it’s blue,” Tina calls.

“I’ve got a regular old blue, and an Alice blue, but someone will have to do with periwinkle,” Queenie says, coming back with yarn.

“This is _purple_ ,” Tina says, laughing, as Queenie drops the ball into her lap.

Credence doesn’t ask why his yarn, which is a pale icy blue, is _Alice_ blue as opposed to, say, _Rebecca_ blue. He just follows the girls to the window, which Queenie throws open. It’s quiet in the city outside, or at least as quiet as New York ever really gets, and the chill air makes Credence shiver. He thinks of Percival, who will be alone in his house after Newt and Jacob come home, and feels a small pang. It’s too cold a Halloween night for that.

But then again, there’s nothing he can do. Credence has probably missed his chance for good.

Tina glances up at the clock. “It’s near enough midnight,” she says. “So! We just hold the loose end of the ball of yarn and throw the ball out the window. When you feel a tug, ask who holds the clew, and whoever answers—that’s your true love.”

“Tina, this might actually be a stupid idea,” Queenie says.

“Shut up and throw your yarn,” Tina says, giving her sister a light shove.

Credence tosses the ball out the window. “It’s like fishing for men,” he says dryly.

Queenie laughs. “Fishing for men! I like that!”

They stand there in silence for a moment. And then Credence jumps nearly half a foot in the air as there’s a tug on the end of the string. Tina and Queenie yelp in the same moment.

“You first,” Tina hisses to Queenie, “it had better be—”

“Who’s got the end of the string?” Queenie calls down.

The response is utterly unsurprising: “Jacob Kowalski!”

Credence elbows Tina. “Your turn,” he says, grinning.

“Who is it?” Tina yells down.

“Newt Scamander!”

“Of course!” Credence says. They must have gone and hid under the fire escape, waiting for this. But then a realization hits him and he turns to look at Tina and Queenie. Before he can say anything, Queenie makes a shooing motion. He turns and calls hesitantly, “Who’s got the end?

There’s a moment of silence. Did Credence imagine the pull? And then the answer comes, brilliant as if someone cast Lumos Maxima into Credence’s face: “Percival Graves.”

He sees spots again and drops the end of the yarn, instantly dizzy. “Oh, sit him down, he’s going to faint!” Queenie exclaims, seizing his arm. She and Tina maneuver him to the sofa where he collapses.

On the fire escape there’s the clatter of footsteps, and then the three men climb in through the window. They’re all red with cold and laughter, holding the ends of the balls of yarn, tangled in their arms and around their hands.  

“I thought you’d never throw the yarn down!” Newt says. “It was far too cold!”

“Yeah, and Graves here almost hexed us when we grabbed him,” Jacob says.

“Queenie, you gave me no warning that I’d be expected to confess my feelings via ‘fishing for men,” Percival says. Credence can only stare at him.

Queenie shrugs, unapologetic. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Jacob looks between Credence and Percival and gives Percival a push toward the sofa. “We’ll leave you to it,” he says. “Might want to talk this out.”

Tina takes the yarn from him. Percival comes and sits down next to Credence, while the other four make themselves scarce. It’s the first time Credence has ever been alone with Percival. Even when they’d met at the Woolworth Building, the office door was always open. He’s had too many shocks this evening to panic, though, so he doesn’t.

“You pulled on the string,” Credence says.

“They warned me yours would look almost white,” Percival says.

Credence snorts. “I don’t know what kind of a color ‘Alice blue’ is, but it’s not really blue at all.”

Percival laughs, but sobers quickly. “So you know that I’ve been driving at the point of telling you I find you attractive all evening.”

“I didn’t think you did…you were avoiding me,” Credence says.

“I was terrified I’d embarrass myself,” Percival admits. He stares at his hands. “And when I thought better of it, you’d started locking your door.”

Credence shakes his head. “I thought I’d disgusted you,” he says.

“Never!” Percival says. He turns to Credence in visible alarm. “You’re not—I couldn’t ever be disgusted with you. You’re fascinating. I was absolutely staggered, when you said you thought of me as a friend. Me, of all people. You’re young and handsome and smart—what are you doing befriending men almost twice your age?”

“Making good decisions, or trying,” Credence says. He swallows hard. “I was wondering the same thing about you—how could you even want to look at someone like me?”

They’re quiet for a moment. The fire crackles; the smell of burnt chestnuts is still heavy in the living room. Candles flicker and shadows dance on the walls. In the kitchen, behind the closed door, Credence hears a prolonged and awkward silence which says their friends are all listening with bated breath. Outside, a car rattles by.

Finally, Percival sighs. “You and I have made a mess of things, so let’s start over. Credence, I’d like to get to know you better. Would you consider going out—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Credence says, before Percival can finish his sentence. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Tell me where to take you, and we’ll go,” Percival says, smiling.

Credence bites his lip but smiles right back. He’s sure they look like a pair of fools, smiling at each other after midnight on Halloween while paper bats flutter overhead and a fortune-telling ring burns a hole in Credence’s pocket. When he leans in and kisses Percival quickly on the lips, it’s sweeter than Halloween candy could ever be.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all, folks!!!
> 
> I’m just going to leave a couple of the inevitable notes here: this party is actually shockingly period-accurate. Until the 1930s, Halloween was largely a holiday of frights celebrated primarily by adults. Once children began trick-or-treating in earnest, however, the holiday shifted closer to something we’d all recognize today. This Halloween party, except the magic, wouldn’t be at all out of place in October 1929.
> 
> The origin of using charms in a cake to tell fortunes on Halloween is an Irish tradition, but there’s a similar tradition in upper-class Victorians in America and England. I can’t find whether or not that tradition was directly coopted from the Irish or if it’s just a good idea that multiple people invented simultaneously. Either way: charms in a cake and some degree of Irish!Graves, we’re all happy!
> 
> “Alice blue”: a shade of very very pale blue favored by Alice Roosevelt. That’s why it’s not “Rebecca blue”.
> 
> (As I pointed out in the trick fic: this is all you'll really hear from me for the next month...November is gonna be rough for me. See you in December! <3)


End file.
